


A Forbidden Call

by AnimeWolfGirl



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Has Magic, Brainwashing, Character Death, Established Relationship, Eventual Relationships, Guilt, Just not the main one, Like only mentioned or in the prologue, M/M, Sirens, Supernatural Elements, Survivor Guilt, i guess, siren!virgil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24396427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnimeWolfGirl/pseuds/AnimeWolfGirl
Summary: After the death of his brother, Virgil tries to live a peaceful life whilst hiding his cursed voice and he, despite what he may worry, was doing a pretty good job. However, when he discovers a near dead body his world takes a turn for the worse... or maybe better?Roman, an amnesiac sailor, gets taken in by a somewhat reluctant hermit called Virgil. As Roman heals and starts to make a place for himself in the local community, despite their best efforts he and Virgil start to get close. But what happens when Roman adapts the same hatred towards sirens and magic that the town has? Will Virgil be able to break their bond and hide his secret, keeping himself safe like his brother told himself before it's too late?Meanwhile, Patton and Logan are busy trying to be a married couple with a son and Remus and Deceit are busy being dead brothers.Oh, and Remy is the village doctor because that's a great idea that couldn't possibly go wrong.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Dr. Emile Picani/Sleep | Remy Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52





	1. Prologue, I guess

All afternoon the wind had blown sharply from the north-east out of a sombre sky, moaning through empty woods that cloaked the sterile land, the sun seemed little more than a distant memory. Virgil didn’t particularly mind, sure it wasn’t ideal to be stuck under every blanket he owned only emerging to throw another log onto the fire, but there wasn’t enough that he enjoyed doing to truly despise his position.

In the late evening the wind outside decided to calm, and so the fire was permitted to keep his crudely constructed cabin warm and cook a stew. Forcing his stiff limbs to carry him over to where a mismatch collection of cabinets and chest occupied a corner, Vigil opened one and frowned. Taking out a small box, he opened it and sighed. His tea was almost out, and as much as he had no particularly like for the bitter drink he couldn’t break the habit of having at least some every day.

‘I’ll have to go to town for more...” He muttered to himself, worried that if he did not speak it allowed it would slip from his mind, he then immediately cringed.

Worry started to bubble up, but he did his best to swallow it down, playing with the frayed sleeve of his tunic while he tried to remember what he had being doing before. Eventually he found himself pouring the now cooked stew into a chipped bowl and putting some water up to boil. Virgil didn’t know why he kept slipping up and using his “normal” voice, not that you could call it normal by any means, but every time he did the consequences of what consequences would’ve followed if he’d done so infront of another

Mentally scolding himself, he shook his head. It was a good thing he instinctively spoke lowly to himself, and that he was so far from any form of proper civilisation.

He just had to hope his voice hadn't gone that far; after all, who knew how powerful a siren he could be? He’d never thought to ask his family, why would he worry when he could just be burden on them instead?

Just to be safe, Virgil went over to the darkened window to close the curtains, something his brother had done religiously at the earliest chance he’s gotten. It always helped him calm down, made it easier to pretend the world outside the four wooden walls didn’t exist.

When he’d finally forced the last of the tea down his throat, Virgil got ready for bed. Slipping on his father’s old sweater and some loose stretchy pants, he buried himself once again in his bundle of blankets and allowed him self to be taken by the embrace of mindless sleep.

He awoke to birds chirping faintly outside, a sound he hadn’t heard in a while. He shielded his eyes from the diagonal rays of light making their way through the gaps in the wood and went about his morning with as much procrastination as he could manage.

‘Why does everything have to be so bright…?’ He grumbled, as mindful of his voice as any could be; he wanted to be a prepared as possible for his trip down to the village.

Grabbing what he deemed to be a respectful amount of money from underneath the loose floorboard, he slipped it into his travel bag. After he’d finally exhausted all the distractions he could think up, Virgil trenched all the way down to the cove.

As he walked, he ignored the way the waves seemed to call to him, telling him with every crash that in them was where he belonged.

Clouds were too prevalent to ignore but compared to the rest of the month it seemed such good weather Virgil couldn’t help but believe he was somehow wasting it. He felt better than he had in a long time, that was until he saw the body.

It was lying, somewhat precariously, on a bit of broken wood that rhythmically hit itself into the rocks. A crimson stain hung in the water, washing away just to be renewed as the body dipped beneath the water in time with the wood. Virgil had to do a double take, his stomach summersaulting.

Needless to say, he had stopped walking. Was the person dead? Should he check and see if they were alive? Should he run and get help? What should he do? Then suddenly the questions didn’t matter, and he was making his way to the body, somehow manoeuvring down the rocks of the cove.

He hadn’t seen a deceased body up close since his brothers and he was relieved to see his record wouldn’t be broken. His chest, Virgil noticed, was still heaving and the wound looked fresh, probably a result of the rocks.

The body was a man. A handsome man, Virgil might add if you bribed him enough. His expensive (and probably ruined) looking red and white clothes clung tightly around his figure, heavy with freezing water.

Virgil lowered himself knee-deep into the water where he could stand up straight then he bent down, and gingerly lifted the man up under his armpits. He hadn’t thought it possible for someone of a less than outrageous size to be so heavy.

It was stressful, to say the least, rolling, pushing and dragging the man, still bleeding though not as heavily, up to the flat land but if that was hard the rest of the journey was a nightmare. The distance to his cabin felt near infinite. He didn’t even know how he managed to half-carry, half-drag the man up to his home. He supposed it was just fortunate that he didn't lived far from the beach.

As he laid the mysterious young man down onto a blanket, and grabbed a towel to put under his head, Virgil allowed himself a few precious seconds to get his thought in order as he leaned against the door.

It was going to be a far longer day than he planned.

._.

The ship’s occupants were screaming orders at each other, desperately trying to organise themselves as the rain beat down on them and the wind did it’s best to toss them around like ragdolls.

Romans His hands were trembling as he tied knot after knot where he was instructed to, he’d never worked a day of his life much less as a sailor but when mother nature suddenly decides to show you just how powerless you really are you don’t object when your given an order. When another round of “man overboard” reached his ears, he looked around madly for his brother, for his cousins, for anyone and everyone he knew but he could barely make out what was a meter infront of him.

He thought he heard an echo of his brother voice and convinced himself that it must’ve been real, he could afford to think otherwise.

Lighting struck; thunder deafened his ears.

A wave rolled over, sweeping those who didn’t have anything to hold onto over the edge and covering the deck in no less than an inch of water.

Running around was now even less appealing and harder than ever, as much as he wanted to do something, to be the hero, Roman found himself holding onto the rail infront of him, crouching down to be as small as possible. Distorted yelling once again reached his ears. glancing up, Alfred saw one of the white sails tear off, bringing even more sailors off deck.

Then, there was another chorus and Roman turned just in time to register his nose was an inch from another wave. It tore him, without any apparent struggle, from the rail and hurled him across the deck.

‘I don’t want to die; I don’t want to die…’ He found himself whispering in a voice that not even he could make out.

In shear, instinctual panic, Roman grabbed hold of a rope that his blistered hand registered just in time. Then was swinging uncontrollably. He scrunched his eyes closed, and for a split second wondered if this, a completely alien situation that was as foreign to the rest of his life as anything could be, would be his end. A new wave of cold washed over him, and Roman felt himself being dragged down; his clothes were so heavy. His arms screamed at him to let them let go of the rope, to grant them rest.

Suddenly, a hard pull, which almost made him loose his grip entirely, hauled Roman back onto the deck. He dropped; dead weighted down by rain which seemed heavier than gravity and more persistent than… than something, Roman could be held accountable if his normally Shakespeare-worthy brain wasn’t functioning as well under so much stress.

But Roman couldn’t dwell on his mental block nor his physical pain. He jumped up, ignoring the sudden dizziness or maybe he wasn’t dizzy and the boat was just being pushed around too much, probably both.

“—oman! Roman! Roman!”

Roman’s head whipped to where he imagined the call was being carried from. There he saw a smudge that upon further squinting revealed itself to be Remus, hanging weakly to another rope, all usual grandeur gone.

“Remus!” Roman answered hoarsely, his throat raw. He scrambling to where his brother was. But, another group of yells ripped apart his momentary relief.

He tried to skid to a halt, but the ship swerved over and sent him skidding into him. Remus did accept Roman’s attempt to grab him but rather pushed him to where another sailor was position, gripping what might have been a fallen mast with all their might.

The last thing Roman couldn’t even make out his brother finals moments.

He didn’t really do anything after that, the sailor, or maybe passenger he couldn’t really care, held onto him stubbornly as they where played with by wave after wave.

Then perhaps hours or maybe a short few minutes later the ship submitted to the ocean’s wrath, Roman and the stranger falling into its depths as well.


	2. Chapter 2

Gingerly and trying his best not to throw up Virgil saw to the man's wound as best as he could, before wrapping them up in a cocoon of a winter blanket and carrying, or more accurately dragging, them over to the fire.

He could hardly go down to the village, after all, what if the stranger woke up? He’d probably be needing some food, and that wouldn’t be able to move right away. He vaguely recalled that shipwrecked people where usually thirsty, something about the salty sea water. But then again, he needed to get someone who actually would know this stuff right? Yeah, Virgil barely trusted himself to look after his pet spider that lived in a draw let alone another human.

After writing a quick note on a yellowed piece of paper, in case the man was to wake up, he left for the village. It wasn’t that long of a journey if you made haste, it only took twenty or so minutes.

He had to get help soon, and save the poor weirdo, he thought and put on a muted smile. He hadn’t called a person that in a friendly way for a while--well, besides Patton, maybe.

It was when a proper dirt path emerged that things started getting in the way, toppled trees, landslides and the such piled in-front of him, as far as Virgil could see there was no way around it. He wouldn't always resort to his gift in every problematic situation, but since it was sort of an emergency and no-one was around plus he couldn’t see any other option.

‘Move,’ he ordered, despite his shaky breathing, his voice clearly punctured the air.

He felt the power of his words like some silent humming move towards it’s target in a fluid, arching movement – everything from the fallen trees to the very dirt beneath them began to join in with the humming.The earth slid itself into two halves. On the left there was a large entanglement of trees and, rocks, and dirt while the other flattened itself out as if nothing had happened. Well, at least it looked vaguely natural, Virgil told himself, biting his lip and looking behind his shoulder once again.

He came to the town’s gate, its dark doors, as usual, were left open a sliver, and although it was built to be unfriendly to travellers, nobody ever treated it as such.

Walking on the cobbled misshapen road, Virgil surveyed his surroundings. It was still late morning for the townsfolk. Many of the smaller shops were still closed, while larger more established traders where already flooded with customers. He couldn’t relax, how could he with all those people, all those eyes? Virgil practically jumped a mile when young woman opened a window and started beating a rug to the left of him.

Just get to the house, he told himself as the familiar urge to turn and run filled him. No-one’s looking at you anymore than they’d look at anyone else. No-one’s suspicious.

Passing a few monotone houses, some cracked and broken, he turned yet onto another clustered corner, for the third time that day the smell of the sea hit his nose and the sound of the sea birds unignorable cries filled his ears. You could see the docks and boats that were bobbing calmly on the water, a few a little worse for wear thanks to the storm but nothing seemed to permanent.

Then again, if there was permanent damage to one it probably wouldn’t have been floating. Maybe that’s who the man was, one of the sailors that occupied the lonely fishing village. Maybe Virgil should go down and see if anyone knew anything. …maybe he shouldn’t, they probably wouldn’t appreciate the interruption.

Looking to the far right, Virgil saw the faded blue of the house that stood, by itself, at the very edge of the village. Pace quickening at the promise of safety and familiarity he almost slipped up on the wet grass, his small shout of surprise attracting the attention of a figure that climbed out an open window to great him, ignoring the sound of gentle scolding that followed.

The small, brown haired boy ran right up Virgil, his fringe bouncing away as he flung himself into a hug around Virgil’s legs.

‘Virgil!’

‘Hello there, Thomas.’ Virgil managed, attempting to keep his balance as the boy stubbornly held onto his legs as they made their way back to the door which opened to reveal a man just a little taller than Virgil with round glasses.

‘Papa! Virgil’s here~!” Thomas called back to the house with his shrill voice, an unusual amount of excitement in it even for him.

Virgil looked down and smiled. No matter how aware he was that they'd turn on him in a second if they knew his secret, he could never muster any hate towards the little guy nor his family.

“Hello, kiddo! What have you been doing? It’s been ages since we’ve last seen each other!’ Came the man’s cheery voice as soon as they were within a reasonable distant. ‘Have you been eating?’

Virgil looked up, and rolled his eyes fondly, a small smile on his lips.

The man’s light brown hair was pushed back and held from falling between his eyes by a band, and his usual attire was covered by a pink apron, covered in flower. It was strange that Patton wasn’t in the bakery at this time of day.

‘If you must know, I only came here to say hello to Thomas.’ Virgil snorted, trying his best to fill his bland tone with as much good humour as he could without slipping into his normal voice. ‘No, but in all seriousness, it’s really good to see you Pat.’

Patton only smiled and turned back into his home. Thomas tugged on his arm, Virgil allowing him to drag him inside.

‘Papa and I are making a big cake for my birthday,’ Thomas chattered on happily. ‘Then where going to eat with my friends and father but you can have some soon. Papa, can Virgil have some cake?’

‘Of course, he can, love!’

Thomas’ seventh birthday? That meant Virgil had been here for six years, six years since... well, since that.

‘Time really does fly.’ He said more to himself than anyone.

When inside the house, Virgil’s nose was assaulted by an all too familiar disgusting smell. Dead, raw fish meat could be seen stacked up on the kitchen counters.

Of course, Logan was a fisherman and they normally used this place for gutting the fish they sold. Virgil had somehow forgotten what it was like when you stepped into the house at the wrong hour. They were probably making the cake in the side of the house that acted at a bakery.

‘Augh,’ he scoffed. He had to be careful now, the distracting smell made it harder for him to dull his voice as easily.

‘I know,’ Patton sighed, appearing behind him to shut the door. ‘I’m too scared to clean it up in case I do something wrong, Logan was expecting the blacksmith’s kids to come up here and gut them like they usually do but they were both caught out in the storm and have developed a nasty fever so now the fish is sort of just sitting there...’ he put on a large smile. ‘But I suppose it could be worse, we can live with it for a few hours.’

‘I don’t see why anybody should have too.’ came Virgil’s reply.

‘If you’re looking for Logan, he isn’t here. He decided to try and get a fresh haul this morning after not getting to go out yesterday, honestly, it’s like he’s trying to get himself killed,’ Patton fretted. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, we,’ he tapped Thomas’ nose causing him to giggle and let go of Virgil, ‘Have some baking to get back too... Oh, I know, you can help!’

‘Yeah!’ Agreed Thomas, not waiting for an answer before grabbing Virgil’s leg again and leading him towards the bakery.

‘Sounds fun, however…’ Virgil’s sincerity seemed far too counterfeited when paired with his flat voice. ‘I actually need to ask you about something. The doctor, they don’t charge, do they? Not if it’s serious or life threatening. I just don’t want to turn up only to not be able to pay… I also need to know where the doctor lives.’

‘No, no, Remy doesn’t like to charge,’ Patton answered casually until the statement suddenly registered and he swirled around. ‘Why? Are you sick?! I keep on telling you that living in that old shack isn’t good for your health and you never eat enou—’

‘I’m fine, I’m fine. Just… asking for someone,’ He answered vaguely, not wanting to alarm Patton further. In order to fully sell it, he went to take on a comfortable pose, leaning against a cabinet but, instead he succeeded only in getting himself splinter. ‘Ow! Bloody—'

‘No swearing! Not in this house and not in front of a child. I expect better from you, my dark, strange son.’ Patton told him any real intimidation denounced by the relieved look on his face that only morphed into a slightly more warning one when Thomas giggled at the nickname.

Virgil, despite the humiliation, was glad the man who had acted as his father figure for so long had interrupted him. His voice had been too much like… well, his voice. To confirm this fear, the splinter was now nowhere to be seen, compelled out of his wrist the second Virgil had expressed unfiltered fear.

‘Right… I’ll be going now. Yeah, I have places to be you know… hehe. I’ll see you around, I guess…’ Virgil nodded several times, more to himself than anyone, going back into the hallway and out of the door as quickly as he could.

Virgil made his way to a bench that faced the front of many shops. He needed to check that his money was still in his bag, Janus had always warned him about pickpockets and regaled him with tales of when they’d been on the receiving end of such crime when running from their home. At the time, Virgil had been too young to properly realise that there already little funds suddenly disappearing would be something to stress about but now the very thought of it made his heart beat faster and his mouth dry. He was a little paranoid of such things.

After checking and double checking how much, he had he began to construct a list in his mind as to what he might need, if he was down here for the doctor he might as well stock up for the month ahead. Being around people was a struggle on a good day and now he was on a time limit.

Curse that man, Virgil couldn’t help but think bitterly. He would be having a peaceful day if he hadn’t washed up when he was walking by.

The sensible thing to do would be to go to the doctors first. Remy Sleep, Virgil didn’t know anything about him other than that he was a foreigner. They had met but only a few brief, times. Janus had done the talking, while Virgil had been still too scared to even try to speak in a fake voice for fear he blew it their cover.

The locals all at least knew of Virgil, though he wasn’t friends or even acquainted with many. It would be impossible to ask anyone the location of the doctors without questions arising. And questions where dangerous, so very dangerous. Virgil couldn’t handle running away again. Where would he escape if he had to? He didn’t want to live his life on the run. He briefly supposed he could go back to Patton and ask him but the man was already suspicious enough and he’d hate to intrude on Thomas’ birthday.

Taking a deep breath, Virgil through himself into the many square. More people were sprawling onto the paths now, and he predicted that a midday rush was due any second. Scanning the forming crowd, Arthur noticed a kind-looking old woman sitting on a bench by herself. He weaved his way over to behind the small crowd and approached the bench.

‘Excuse me, but—' Virgil started to say but found himself unable to say more as the woman gave him a piercing glare.

Oh god, had he slipped up? Did she know? Was he going to have to leave? But he didn’t know how to survive in the wild, or build a house, or get people to rust you or all those things his brother had done for his sake.

‘You…’

Yep, she definitely knew. She was from his old village or something. She was going to tell everyone that he was a monster. They where all going to hate him. Patton, Logan and Thomas would hate him. They’d kill him. Virgil was going to die. He was going to die. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to. He wanted his brother. He didn’t want to die.

‘I-I, um, was… I-I… wondering if you… you could direct m-me to Doctor home… Doctor Emile’s home...” Virgil stammered, hoping that the words he was attempting to force out of his throat where making it. ‘Ma’am.’

‘I know you.’ the woman said, ignoring the question entirely. The glare in her eyes was razor sharp, as if it was focusing on something very small and very large at the same time.

There was no mistaking it for irritation the woman’s tone held hostility, personal hostility. He was going to die. He was going to die. Sweat started to slide down his temples. Should he make a break for it? Somehow, he doubted he could will his legs into motion if he wanted to.

“N-no, I think you have the wrong person.’ Virgil tried his best to think of what to say next, Janus was always so good with word, he’d know what to say.

‘No, I know you. I recognise your face.’ the woman instead, just before a younger, exasperated voices cut into the bubble around the two.

‘So, here’s where you are. C’mon grandma,’ a young man said, an accent lightly laced in his voice. ‘Time to go.’

‘I know this boy, Hankin.’

‘Is that so.’ He encouraged gently.

‘She— uh, I-I mean I don’t…’ Virgil did his best to look at the man as innocently as he could, the clear distress present on his features that spurred the grandson into action.

He carefully stepped between Virgil and his relative and helped the woman up from the bench.

‘I’m sorry, I’m afraid that my grandmother has lived too long for her own good. She used to be a good a woman as any other; you know? Still is, just a little… worse for wear,’ he implored. ‘We’ll be on our way now, I do apologise.’

‘It’s fine,’ Virgil said, though it was certain that he didn't really feel 'fine'. ‘But… uh, but before you go, can I ask you something?’

‘Of course.’ The man’s apprehension was obvious, at least to Virgil it was.

‘Could you please direct me to the village doctor?’

‘Oh, of course!” he said, giving Virgil a once over. ‘You gotta’ go past the blacksmith’s, and don’t take any turns. Just walk straight until you see an old grey house--say, you’re not from around here, are you?’

‘I’m from around here, I just don’t go out very often,’ Virgil admitted. ‘Thank you, for your help.’

‘My pleasure, goodbye.’ he said in clipped tone. Guiding his grandma with a firm grip on her shoulder he turned with a quick step and hurried away. Virgil was more than glad to work out that he was travelling in almost the exact opposite direction, back in the direction of Patton’s house.

Could that woman actually have known something about him? What if she told her son? His blasted morning, no, month, was in ruins, and all because of some bad weather.

Now feeling more bitter than anything Virgil practically marched down the cobble tracks. He passed the blacksmith and headed straight down a row of surprisingly well-kept houses.

The woman had just be confused, that was all. That’s what he had to believe.

He had never really noticed this part of town before, mostly sticking to busy roads where he wouldn't be noticed by anyone. When he used to go with his brother, Virgil had just clung to his side and refused to see anything but the material of his cloak. Virgil had always felt safe when he was in the presence of his brother, no matter what situation they were in.

Janus would know what to do about the woman. He’d know what to do if they had to run.

But now he was gone, and Virgil was alone to protect himself. Well, it wasn't like he couldn’t defend himself, but growing up he had been much closer to Janus than anyone else, even Patton, and having that seemingly assumed comfort ripped away from him by a simple illness was still incomprehensible to Virgil almost a full year on.

Wrapped up with his tangled thoughts, Virgil didn’t see the uprooted piece of stone. He fell straight forward and almost landed flat on his face, his reflexes kicking in at the last possible second. How mortifying, at least no-one was around to witness it. He vaguely wondered if someone had cursed his day.

Getting up while trying to maintain some sense of balance as his head swam Virgil took a look around where he had carried himself while tangled up in thoughts. At least he had reached his destination. There in front of him stood a tall, grey-brick house. A sign covered one of the windows reading: “Infirmary”. The other windows where covered by what appeared to be thick black curtains, all of which were drawn despite the “Welcome, we’re open” sign that hung on the front door. Virgil didn’t feel very welcome

Just as he has finished bundling up his nerves to reach for the door it swung open.

‘Are you here to see me? Because no offense love but you’ve been standing there awhile,’ said a young man in an offputtingly casual way. He looked only a little older than Virgil, in his early twenties at best. ‘You’re not a mute, are you, hun? Know sign language? I’m afraid I never learnt the language of silent eye contact when in training.’

‘N-no. I’m not a mute I’m… I’m here to s-see…’

‘You better come inside, hun.’

‘Thank you,’ Virgil said. ‘I hope I’m not interrupting anything.’

The doctor’s home was surprisingly cosy inside. It was nice, just not the sort of place Virgil was inclined to believe acted as the sole workplace of a genuine doctor. The closed curtains even helped to douse the room in such a light one might imagine it to be lit by a warm fire or a sunset. The furniture was primarily basic, but ornaments and knickknacks seemed to cover every available surface in a chaotic organised way.

However, Doctor Remy walked through the front rooms leading Virgil into narrow clinically clean hallway. He opened a painted grey door, beckoning Virgil into a smaller room. A table was place in the centre of the room, strangely low to the ground. Little mats surrounded it and a lit fireplace sat next to a water basin. The walls where lined with cabinets. A kitchen. Why was Virgil in a kitchen?

‘Don’t stand there, luv. You can sit, I’ll make some tea for us.” Remy gestured to the mats. Virgil didn’t know what to say in response so, instead kneeled down onto the floor in silence.

A second of silence that stretched into a moment and then into a minute. Remy took up humming but eventually stopped, though Virgil didn’t get the impression the Doctor felt as stifled as the heavy awkwardness as he was.

‘Thank you for seeing me,’ Virgil spoke up. He winced; the room was so perfectly quiet that his flavourless voice sounded crueller than usal. However, Remy didn’t seem to be put-off, simply raising an eyebrow.

‘So, that is what you sound like hen you’re not stumbling over every syllable,’ he addressed instead. ‘it is nice to properly meet you, Virgil. I must say, I thought you would be more fun.’

‘Excuse me,’ Virgil ignored the last comment. ‘How do you know my name?’

‘Oh? Don’t think I have forgotten about you, hun. I’ve met you before you know. Your brother,’ Remy explained, pouring too cups of tea with his being sizably larger than any recommended amount should be. ‘He told me your name. And he was fun, so, many secrets, why doesn’t he come anymore?’

Pursing his lips, Virgil looked down at his lap and clasped his hands together. Too down to even berate himself for not realising the clear reason as to why his name had been known.

‘I am afraid my brother has passed away. It is only me now, and I have come to request your advice.’

Sitting down and placing the hot cups of steaming tea on the table, a withdrawn expression shifted onto Remy’s previously somewhat aloof expression.

‘I am very sorry to hear that, hun,’ he said. ‘How did it happen? If you don’t mind me asking.’

‘He got sick,’ Virgil answered, shrugging and looking down at the same time. ‘Didn’t seem to bad at first but he… he overworked himself, I guess.’

‘Sounds like him,’ mused the doctor sombrely, taking a large sip of his tea. ‘He should’ve come to me, I may not have particularly liked all the work I had to put in to work with— to become a doctor but I might as well put the knowledge to use. On the subject of that, what do you need advice on, hun? No offence but you look a bit roughed up, what happened?’

‘Nothing. Well, it’s not nothing but it’s not why I came here,’ answered Virgil, not wishing to admit his earlier tripping. ‘I found a shipwrecked person this morning, they had a wound and a sewed it up and everything but… well, I don’t know what to do and they’re unconscious, or they where when I left them.’

‘Huh.’ Was his first reply, neither shocked nor disinterred. ‘Well, love, you should definitely put washcloths on his head, he’ll have a fever. Blankets and stuff are all suggested, of course. I will give you some medicine to herp with his metabolism but you should bring him here so I can have a look at their wound.’

Remy then, after a sizable amount of their tea was swallowed in one gulp, launched into explanations of what he should do if specific things occurred, making vague gestures with his hand as he did so. Virgil didn’t really understand most of it yet, he was too nervous to do anything but politely nod and expand upon his early description of the state of the man, when asked. He was sure he could manage it all if he tried.

After having finished both his tea and the instructions, the doctor got up to get Virgil some medicine and disinfectant. Virgil was prepared to remain at the table but Remy gesture for him to follow him back into the corridor, to the front room and through another door into the sort of room Virgil had been expecting.

There were beds lined up against the wall in one room with small, unstable looking wooden tables in between them, only three of these where occupied. Two, by the blacksmith’s children that gave Virgil a nod of acknowledgement when recognising him as the boy who visited Patton regularly but the third bed had a white curtain pulled around it, hiding whoever was in there from prying eyes. A man, probably a little older than Remy appeared from within these curtains upon their entrance. Many cabinets lined the end wall, and water bowls were place periodically on lone, white cabinets at the end of the beds.

‘Ah, hello, Remy!’ the man who had appeared out of the curtain greeted, a large grin on his face. ‘I thought you said you where going to go see Sadon?’

‘Was but now I’m not.’ Answered Remy simply.

‘I didn’t stop you, did I? _’_ Virgil asked.

‘Nah, I didn’t want to go, anyway, hun.’

‘Remy.’ The man said, in a somewhat exasperated tone.

‘Lay off, Emile. Really the guy isn’t worth anyone’s time, Virge. They’re this old man we treated awhile back whose like, way too into the anaesthetic we gave him and calls us if they so much as get a papercut like… okay, you need to back up, because, you're getting a little clingy, and it's not a good look on you, sweetie.’

Virgil gave a hesitant laugh, unsure how involved he should get with the other blatant antics, luckily, he didn’t need to overthink it too much because Remy promptly excused himself and made his way to the other side of the room.

‘So, you’re called, Verge? It’s lovely to meet you.’

‘It’s Virgil… but I don’t mind if you call me Verge,’ He hastily added. ‘It’s nice to meet you too… Em-Emi?’

‘Emile,’ He corrected with a warm smile. ‘I hope we can be friends. You can never have enough friends, my dad always used to say.’

‘Here you go, hun,’ Remy said, putting a collection of vials and a pile of bandages into a satchel which he handed to Virgil. ‘It’s all on your house since your situation is not a result of any personal idiocy but I’d like the bag back.’

‘Oh right, what’s the situation.’

‘It’s a secret,’ Remy cut in before Virgil could say anything. ‘Not nice is it, Emile? When your best friend keeps secrets from you.’

Emile just sighed.

‘Okay, okay fair enough but can you please go and see why Sadon sent for us.’

‘Really? You're, like, telling me to go after, like, three minutes of us being together? Like, I... I don't wanna call you selfish, but you basically hate me, and I don't even know why I try. I don't even know why I try anymore.’

‘Remy…’

‘Okay, okay I’ll go.’

Virgil took that as a que to leave as well, quickly excusing himself and thanking both one last time before slipping out the door.

As he went around getting what other supplies he could afford and carry Emile’s words echoed around his skull: ‘I hope we can be friends.' He shook his head. Virgil knew he could never trust either of the two with his secret and he was already treading eggshells with how close he was to Patton’s family; he couldn’t afford anymore detours. It was for his own protection. And yet… he just couldn’t shake the weird feelings bubbling up inside him, they followed him around all day from the first step outside the infirmary all the way to his front door.

It was pathetic, he’d only spoken to the two for what, half an hour max and that was only with Remy. He needed to get his guard up again, especially since there was currently a sleeping stranger stirring in his house.

There was no change in said man. Janus’ snake had come through a gap beneath the door and was curled up next to the smouldering remains of the fire, basking in its artificial light. Virgil couldn’t help but be a little uplifted, he had assumed the snake had either abandoned him or gone into hibernation anyway. He took a piece of raw lamb and gave it to him, explaining aloud his situation and attempting to figure out what he should do next.

._.

God, why wouldn’t the pounding just go away? Damnit... it hurt! He thought miserably. Roman gave up trying to hide from his pain and opened his eyes but was met with nothing but a mix of dark colours. Everything was way to blurry. Roman felt his head spin and buried his face into whatever he was lying on, squeezing his eyelids tightly closed.

Storm clouds, the flicker of lighting, the sound of thunder, his brother face. His brother? Oh right, Remus was his name. Remus! If he hadn’t ran into his brother, and distracted him, would he still be alive?

It... was all his fault that his brother was dead.

This brother person should’ve lived, Roman thought hazily, exactly who this brother was slipping from his grasp once again. Still, grief was crawling up his throat, and tears were threatening to spill out from his eyes. His breathing grew ragged, and suddenly felt the urge to cough. And there was this pain… this stabbing pain that covered almost every inch of his skin.

Roman’s eyes flung open as the pain became more and more prevalent in his mind, an inescapable discomfort wrapping its arms around him. He tried to sit up but couldn’t find the strength to. Instead, all he could do was open his eyes to a somewhat less blurry ceiling.

A ceiling? Where was he? How’d he get there? He wasn’t still on the… the ship, was he? His mind was too overwhelmed by everything around him that it refused to explain to Roman exactly what was happening.

His throat was raw and dry, he wanted to cry and vomit and scream all at once.

A creaking sound filled his ears, perhaps it had been silent before or perhaps he hadn’t been listening, it was hard to tell. Roman was quickly discovering he didn’t like not knowing. The throbbing continued. Blinking several times and directing his vision towards the sound, Roman was met with piercing… purple(?) eyes...

‘Oh! You’re awake, aren’t you?’ Someone exclaimed in a dry voice not quite befitting of someone surprised by the occasion. There eyebrows raised a bit, either in worry or confusion.

“Wha...t?” Roman managed to croak out; and because Roman didn’t want to think about what had happened, or where he was at the moment, he decided to say: ‘You’re… you’re really pale… you…. You know that?’

And then he fell back into the arms of unconsciousness. 


End file.
